


the withering shape of you

by santanico



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27497506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: “What were you thinking?” Varric says as she shivers in the still air. “When it came down to it, and it was you or Stroud, what made you shoutme,me, let the giant demon absorbme?”Hawke huffs. “That’s not exactly how it went.”
Relationships: Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Hawke/Varric Tethras
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	the withering shape of you

**Author's Note:**

> Well, filling a kink meme prompt errrr, almost six years after it's posted is still, like, good right?
> 
> [Prompt here](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/86649.html?thread=348184953#cmt348184953)
> 
> Low level warning for ~kinky punishment, I guess

Was this anywhere else, anyone else, any other time, Varric would be encouraging her to relax.

But they aren’t anywhere else, she isn’t someone else, and it’s now.

He flattens his palm to the small of her back and she stiffens. Hawke has her arms over her head, leaning on the door. Her wrists and forearms are pressed against the heavy mahogany, and her legs are perfectly spread apart. He had her strip down to her smalls; white shorts and a corset so dirty and worn that Varric hardly believed it could offer any support. 

He _was_ angry, but he couldn’t say that out loud, and they both knew it.

“It’s unfair of you, Hawke,” he says.

She curls her fingers on the door and grits her teeth.

“To think that no one else would care. Or miss you.”

He looks up to her face in time to see her roll her eyes, her shoulders tensing. He draws a hand back, holding her still with the other. He doesn’t pull too far before sharply smacking her on the ass. Hawke lets out a breath. She’s shut her eyes and is biting the inside of her lip, something close to a smirk playing on her mouth, despite her tense muscles.

“You know that’s not what I think,” Hawke says, her voice a low, curling drawl that does something unreasonable to Varric’s stomach. Hawke spreads her legs a little wider; encouragement, but also her way of standing tall. “Hells. How long have you known me? Shocked I played the hero? What?”

Varric presses his tongue between his teeth and steps directly behind her. He pulls her underwear down, revealing the slightly reddened skin on one side.

“Come on, then,” Hawke says. “You aren’t going to make me scream?”

“Hah,” he breathes. “We’ve barely started.”

Hawke laughs as she leans against the door. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

He draws back again, smacks a palm on the other cheek. Hawke shudders. She’s smiling though, damn her. He presses on, each hit on her bare skin ringing through the small room. It’s late but the walls are thin; he doubts anyone could hear them, but it’s something he wonders anyway. 

“Varric,” she says, gritting through her teeth. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“You’re a damned idiot sometimes,” Varric says. He strokes a fingernail down her back and then reaches around to start unclasping her corset from the front. Hawke stays utterly still - he’s tempted to compliment her but holds his tongue - and he drops the corset to the floor. It clatters undramatically and Hawke arches her back, stretching further. Her skin presses against her ribs as she breathes in and then relaxes.

“What were you thinking?” Varric says as she shivers in the still air. “When it came down to it, and it was you or Stroud, what made you shout _me_ , _me_ , let the giant demon absorb _me_?”

Hawke huffs. “That’s not exactly how it went.” He smacks her again, full palm wide on her ass, and she jumps. “Oh.”

“Not what I asked.”

Hawke grits her teeth. “Oh, you’re funny,” she says, but he can hear the whistling of the air traveling through her throat, shaking in her lungs. Her eyes are shut, her fists clenched so tight her knuckles are straining. “I was thinking of what needed to be done.”

Varric pulls back and spanks her again.

Hawke laughs, then groans. “Maker, you’re good at that.”

“Flattery,” Varric drawls, “that’s pathetic.”

Hawke’s breath hitches and she straightens her back. Despite her show, Varric can see the slight shudder of her thighs. Her muscles are drawn so tight he’s almost surprised she hasn’t collapsed under the sheer pressure.

“What do you want me to say, Varric,” she murmurs, voice much softer now, less controlled. “That I wanted to be gone from this world? To be forgotten? Or do you want me to lie?”

Varric has a moment where everything seems to stop and stand utterly still. Hawke is just a person in front of him, naked for him, bending for him, telling him how she feels for him. He has a brief thought, that he is being unfair to her, but then he remembers how the Inquisitor had said, his tone dark, _“She looked like she’d break Stroud’s arm for the chance to jump into that hole and die. It was scary, frankly.”_

“I’m sorry, Hawke,” he says, and he means it. He draws back again and slaps her ass, harder than before. Hawke gasps and unclenches her fists to press her palms into the doorframe. He doesn’t stop this time, building into a rhythm. Hawke jerks at every one, and by the end her mouth is hanging open, her eyes screwed shut, her sweat-slick forehead pressed to the door.

“Hawke,” he says.

“I’m fine,” she whispers. “Just…”

Varric steps closer to her and draws his hand down to her thigh, squeezing. He dips his fingers between her legs and strokes from the top to her hole, wetting his hand in her. She’s soaked, the wetness spreading to her innter thighs already.

“Just what?” he says.

“That,” Hawke says. “Don’t stop touching me.”

Varric hums and drags his finger along her cunt. He grinds his palm to her clit and she shouts, a sharp, broken sound.

“What would I have done without this?” she says, and Varric has to laugh at her tone - to make a joke while he’s got a finger in her. “Maker, you’re blessed.”

“Shut up, Hawke,” he says, but he’s gentler this time, not trying to get her coiled up. Hawke rocks her hips back into Varric as he starts to fuck her in earnest with his fingers. His middle finger dips inside, and her cunt stretches around the change with ease.

Hawke goes quiet now, and it makes Varric smile, despite everything. She’s got her teeth pressed to her lips, her eyes fully lidded, and she’s moving in tandem with his hand - perfect little symphony.

He pulls his fingers out of her without ceremony and Hawke makes a hard, choking sound as he turns her around. Her back hits the door with a dull thud and he’s driven onwards by the very real quiver of her thighs. She’s blinking hard, recomposing, and Varric decides she doesn’t deserve the time to find herself. He settles down on his knees, between her legs - rests a hand on the inside of each thigh to push them apart.

“Varric,” Hawke breathes.

He missed the way she says his name.

He presses his first two fingers of his left hand to her folds, parting her so he can see closer. Her clit is swollen and the dark, wiry hairs are damp and sticking together. He maneuvers gently and Hawke makes this tiny, broken sound, almost a whimper but not quite as pathetic. Her head thumps against the door as she arches against him. Varric smiles; can’t help himself. 

“You tease,” she says as he ghosts his lips over the swell of her clit. “Oh, you fucking bastard.” Her words are still breathless and weak, so Varric continues, pressing kisses down her clit and then rolling his tongue over her hole. Hawke’s entire body clenches and she sinks her fingers into his hair. Varric shuts his eyes tight as she pulls - _hard_ , with purpose - forcing his mouth on her.

Varric wraps his arms around her thighs, resting his hands firmly against her ass again. She shivers as he sucks; licks; kisses. Varric wants nothing but to keep her going, strung taut as a bowstring. He presses his mouth firmly to her cunt, so close he swears he can feel the pulse of blood rushing through her. Hawke, for her part, continues to make these small sounds, as if torn from the very back of her throat, and her fingers flex in his hair, gripping so hard and then so viciously that she tears his already loose hair tie out. Varric fucks her with his tongue, pushing in and then out again, circling the line of her hole before curling inside again. She tastes indescribable; salt and sweet, thick and warm. He removes his tongue from her and focuses back again on her clit. He sucks the nub into his mouth, swirls his tongue in quick circles around it.

Hawke urges him on, scratching her short nails along the back of his head. Varric catches his breath when he can, quickly, and then buries himself back in her cunt to really take it all in - figuratively, too. She knocks him in the face with her knee, almost stumbles, and he manages to steady her. She laughs, and it’s a sweet, somber sound, echoing in the otherwise quiet room. His cock stands stiff in his pants, but it just pushes him onward, wondering how far he can take her.

Hawke finally pulls his hair _back_ , and Varric almost yelps at the sharp pain.

“Sorry,” she whispers. He blinks at her. Her legs are shaking so hard it’s hitting her at the hips. Her stomach muscles are wavering. Her free hand slides down the door and she keeps having to push herself up with it so she doesn’t fall. “I just think I’m going to collapse on you.”

Her fingers loosen and Varric lifts a hand to his face, wiping the back to his mouth. He licks his lips and her taste is still there, lingering and strong. Hawke is looking down at him, her eyes lidded - she laughs.

“Quite the punishment,” she says.

Varric pushes himself off his knees - and oh, that hurts, even if it was completely worth it. “You wanna settle down?”

Hawke stands up straighter, collecting herself. They are suddenly just themselves again, and Varric somehow feels that he’s offending her by having her nude while he’s fully dressed. He pulls his tunic off in solidarity. She blinks at him. Maybe they weren’t on the same page after all.

“Settle down,” she says, as if weighing the words in her mouth. “Oh. You mean...Ah, yes. On the bed.”

“On the bed,” Varric says, staring at her.

“You spin my entire head ‘round, Varric. Don’t expect me to think straight.”

Varric chuckles and Hawke steps back from the door and flops down on his cot. It really isn’t a bed, sadly - a slab of wood, a mattress, a fitted sheet and a very thick blanket that Merrill had knitted for him half a decade ago. Hawke curls up towards the head of the bed, shivering.

“It’s not that cold,” Varric says.

“Says you,” Hawke says. “C’mere.”

She draws him in close and it doesn’t take much for Varric to climb on top of her, and they’re kissing now, and it’s lovely, a feeling Varric had almost forgotten. Hawke moans in his mouth and Varric touches her, starts with her breasts, tweaking her nipples in turn. She squirms and wraps her arms around his neck, and he pulls back only long enough to touch his thumb to her lips, and she bites the tip, grins at him, then sucks. He’s mesmerized to watch her sucking on his finger; feeds her his index and middle fingers again, watches her as she closes her eyes and circles her tongue around the tips, licks down the line between them. She’s lovely with these bitten raw lips, and Varric hardens again, against her hip this time. Hawke grinds up against him, tries to shift them so their hips are aligned, but it only half works and he can feel her wet cunt against his pant leg, his hard cock pressing against the hollow of her hip.

Hawke draws her head back and Varric pulls his fingers from his mouth with a pop. She licks her lips. “Enough of this,” she says, raking her fingernails along his bare back. “You gonna fuck me or do I have to do it my damned self?”

“Hey,” Varric says, “that’s something to think about.”

Hawke laughs and pulls him in for another kiss, then reaches to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down. Varric smiles against her mouth and finishes knocking his boots and trousers off.

“Much more even now,” Hawke says, her voice smooth and slick as she peers down at Varric’s cock. “Andraste, it’s been too long.”

“Hah,” Varric breathes, taking hold of her right leg and lifting her by her hips. Hawke arches off the bed and Varric sidles closer; the tip of his cock brushes her cunt and she sighs, tilting her head back against his pillow. Varric wraps his left hand around his cock and eases into her with a slow forward movement of his hips. Hawke squeezes her eyes shut, mouth hanging open, as he presses his cock into her. His fingers, sturdy as they are, don’t exactly have the same girth his dick does, and it’s been ages since they’ve had the time or the opportunity to settle into good, old fashioned fucking. If Varric recalls correctly, the last time they had tumbled had been the night Hawke arrived at Skyhold, and she had been so drunk that she’d fallen asleep after he came in her mouth, and he’d felt guilty about it for days until they got around to it again, Varric fingering her in the bar late one night while they played cards alone.

Nevertheless, he fucks her like it’s the last chance they’ll have - and maybe it is, he thinks briefly, then banishes the thought. Hawke stretches her arms out until her palms hit the wall, and she scratches her nails against the wood in desperation as he quickens his thrusts. She’s not playing around anymore, completely lost - she’s begging for him wordlessly, the sort of manic rantings he adored that she so rarely was kind enough to grace him with. Varric presses on, keeping up the pace of his thrusts in line with her arching back.

“Varric,” she says, “I’m…”

He hushes her with a slam of his hips.

She curses, twists; it’s one of the most deeply satisfying things Varric has ever seen, watching her unravel. She comes on his cock with a shout, spasming around him hard and fast. Varric pushes into her one last time and the heat of her rocks him over the edge. He pulses inside her and she groans, her voice soft and low.

He doesn’t have a clear memory of the next few moments. He must untangle from her at some point, and when he blinks and looks at her she’s laughing. He reaches to the bedside table and tosses his washcloth to her.

“Maker, Varric, that’s disgusting,” she laughs.

“Shut up, it’s clean.”

She laughs again. “Lovely cumrag you have here.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yes, that’s what makes me so charming.”

Varric heaves a sigh and grabs his underwear from the floor, but they’re much too dusty now to put back on.

“Isn’t it bedtime?” Hawke says, stifling a yawn. “Or are you going to leave me here to wake up in the light of the dawn, her hero’s side of the bed cold?”

“You’ve been reading too much _Swords & Shields_,” he mutters. “It’s you I’m worrying about disappearing, Hawke.”

“Ah,” Hawke says. She’s resting, completely relaxed now, head on his pillow. She really does take up most of the bed.

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Fine,” he says. “Do I get to be the little spoon?”

“I suppose,” Hawke says. She yawns. Varric slips under the sheet beside her, and Hawke drops an arm over him carelessly. He stares at the window on the other side of the room, a little hole in the wall that’s so dusty and faded he can barely see the courtyard anyway. Hawke breathes quietly against his neck.

“Hawke,” he says.

She continues breathing, tickling at his earlobe.

“Hawke,” he says, even quieter this time. “We’ll talk about it, I’m not letting it go. You would have left.”

Hawke hums, the smallest sound. He wouldn’t have heard it were it not right by his ear.

“You’ll warn me before you leave, right?” he says, barely a whisper.

Hawke doesn’t say anything. Varric sighs. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, whether she’s actually asleep or ignoring him. He decides it isn’t worth pursuing, and she likely won’t be gone in the morning.

They can smooth out the wrinkles some other time.


End file.
